


Late Harvest

by bryar6



Series: A Wizard's Beginnings [9]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Moppet!Douxie, Pre-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, character backstory, they are precious babies your honor, young Douxie and Archie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryar6/pseuds/bryar6
Summary: Birthdays are not something kept careful track of in the 12th century, particularly not if you're but a farmer's boy. Archie offers a rather unique gift to young Hisirdoux, making it the first birthday of many that he will never forget, setting them on course for a lifetime of adventure.(This can be read as a standalone.)
Relationships: Archie & Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan
Series: A Wizard's Beginnings [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941658
Comments: 21
Kudos: 36





	Late Harvest

**Author's Note:**

> Another Douxie birthday fic! This one was written because I realized that Archie's presence was so minimal in the _[Magic // Have it All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395437>)_ fic that I wrote, and I've had this idea kicking around in the back of my head since I uploaded the first fics here. I promise, this one is 99.98% fluff. No prior reading necessary for this one, but, if you'd like to know more about Douxie's birthday traditions, read the aforementioned fic(also supremely fluffy and Zouxie to boot).

“How old are you, Hisirdoux?” 

Douxie picks his way between the rocks on the coast, balancing on them and hopping away from the lapping water. Archibald makes a mental note to properly scold the boy if he falls in. It’s fall, soon to be winter, and the ocean is deadly cold at this time of year. 

“Uh, I don’t really know.” The young boy shrugs. Of course he doesn’t know, why would farmers who couldn’t even read keep track of a child’s age? Archie can think of a few reasons, but he ignores it. 

“Well, you must have a birthday.” Archie speeds up, putting himself between the ocean and the boy. The little dragon flinches as the spray covers him but finds his footing on the slippery rocks and stays true to the course. “You know. A day you were born.” 

“Oh. Suppose I’ve got one of those.” 

“Yes? What day, then? Or season?” The dragon nudges the boy off the rocks and onto the sand, the boy acting as if nothing had changed, turning his attention to the slimy seaweed. Douxie inspects a long, red strand of it. He holds the seaweed up to Archie's nose, a smirk on his face. As politely as he can, the shapeshifter steps away. 

“Hmm. Mother always said it was a bother that I was born in the harvest season, because she couldn’t be in the fields with Father and my siblings.” Douxie shrugs. He bends and picks up a rock and casts it into the sea with a flick of a strong arm. This one has potential. Not just an innate natural talent for magic, but also with a determination and connection with the world that was rarely found in a child of his age.

“Interesting. I was born in the winter. I remember seeing the snow, my first time out of the cave…I thought the whole world was always bathed in cold and white.” Archie laughs. Douxie looks to the dragon and smiles, before reaching out and scratching under his chin. “Hey, hey! Your hands are wet! And I’m a dragon, as of now.” 

“Sorry.” But the boy clearly isn’t all that remorseful. “So if I had a birthday, it would be in the harvest season. Like it is now.” 

“Right you are, clever boy,” Archie praises. “What do you think would be a good birthday?” 

“Umm...today?” Douxie glances at the shapeshifter, a look of confusion on his face. “I guess today is a nice day.” The sunnier weather and breaks in the clouds certainly lend itself to the boy’s words. 

“No, I meant...ah, well. You’re right. Today is a nice day. How about we call today your birthday?” 

“Alright. I don’t know what day it is. It’s just late in the harvest season.” Douxie begins to scramble up some steep rocks on the cliff face, nothing more than a goat path. The shapeshifter’s heart skips a beat each time the boy’s feet slip. 

“Then that’s how we’ll keep track of your birthday. Late in the harvest season it is.” Archie follows closely on Douxie’s heels, mulling over his current thoughts. 

“What do you do on a birthday?” The boy’s voice hints at a buried curiosity. 

“The nobles celebrate with food and delicacies and gifts, and I see the common folk never really celebrated much at all, sadly. My father would bake a delightful blood-berry pie…” Archie sighs, shaking himself from his thoughts. The pair have made it to the top of the cliff and now overlook the sea, a gentle breeze pushing at them. “I’m afraid I have no real gifts for you, Hisirdoux.” 

“Don’t call me that, Archie,” Douxie says, frowning. 

“Right, sorry. I did, however, have something in mind. A sort of gift from me to you. That is, I suppose, if you’re at all interested.” The shapeshifter seats himself, tucking his tail over his feet. Douxie plops onto the grass beside him. 

“Well? Go on,” the boy prods. He tears at the blades of brittle grass, piling them into a little stack on one of his crossed feet. The shapeshifter feels some strange fondness for this pointless action. _No, it’s a fondness for the boy._

“I am aware that I’ve only known you a year, Douxie.” Archie coughs, clearing his throat. His heart beats hard, a little frantically. “But I have an important question to ask of you. It feels as though my journey has brought me to you, and us together. I would like to be your familiar, if you would be my wizard.” 

Douxie turns his head, his hazel eyes shining, the gold flecks in his eyes brilliant. Some strange magic rolls off the boy, something like...affection? But a kind of affection Archibald has never known. 

“I would like that, Archie. I’ll be the best wizard familiar there is. I’ll always protect you,” Douxie says, chopping at the air with his arms, a faint blue magic twirling around his fingers. “I heard all about familiars, I even met one once, I think! This old lady had a big, big raven, and the raven leaned down to me…” 

Archie smiles wistfully at the boy as he babbles on. It’s a story the shapeshifter has already heard more than a few times, and he would listen to the boy talk about it for centuries to come. _If he only knew that my job as his protector has only begun. I have a notion that we’ve a great many adventures ahead of us._

“I do know that you understand what a Familiar is. There is an oath, my dear boy. It seals the Bond, and is irreversible and can only be undone by death. If you are sure about this, we may go through with it.” Archie meets his confident eyes and adjusts his glasses.

“I am sure.” Douxie holds his hand out, a steady boldness that Archie has admired in the boy from the start. 

“In that case,” Archibald says, placing his paw into the boy’s open palm, “we begin the oath.” 

“How’s it go?” Douxie asks, his fingers wrapping gently around the paw. The boy’s small hand is about the same size as the dragon’s big paws and it amuses him. 

“Well, you and I will open our magic to each other. And it binds our magic securely, for so long as the both of us live. Do you understand that?” Archie is serious now. 

“Yes. I do understand. I want this.” And Archie knows that the boy speaks nothing but the truth. And it just feels like what he was made for. 

“Then it will be so. Repeat what I say.” Archie lifts his wings together, and closes his eyes. “I, Hisirdoux Casperan.” 

“I, Hisirdoux Casperan,” repeats the boy, his voice gentle. 

“Bind myself to the soul of my Familiar, Archibald, son of Charlemagne.” 

“Bind myself to the soul of my Familiar, Archibald, son of Charlemagne.” 

Douxie’s hand tightens around his paw. Archie releases the magic he was holding onto, and feels a flood of it coursing through his body in return. It’s distinctly Douxie’s magic. It’s strong, powerful, true, a little unruly and untrained. The energy makes itself known to Archie. And it’s the magic of his Familiar. Their magic, eternally shared. 

Douxie gasps and Archie’s eyes snap open, searching the boy for any harm. _It couldn’t have gone wrong…I did everything right, didn’t I?_

“Are you alright?” 

Douxie pats at his chest, a hand running down to his sternum. Archie tips his head as the boy tugs away his tunic, revealing a pale circular mark intersected with a line parallel to his torso, traced across his skin like a birthmark. But it can’t have been one, with the look of stunned awe the boy wears. Douxie touches Archie’s fluffy chest, eyes focused on something. When he pulls his hand away, an identical mark is revealed, in stark white against his black fur. 

“Hmm. Now we match,” the boy remarks, his classic grin returning. Archie chuckles, and presses his forehead against the boy’s. The boy presses back, a gesture that the two had adopted fast over their time together. It might just be the shapeshifter’s favorite. 

“That we do, Douxie.” Archie purrs, basking in this newfound warmth underneath that mark on his chest, humming with a kind, loving magic. It fills his soul, a comforting sensation he could have never imagined. 

_Yes. This is how it was meant to be. Myself and my familiar. Forever and always._

**Author's Note:**

> Short but sweet, needed something feel-good to get me through, lol. Happy birthday Douxie! 
> 
> (PS - yes, I included Charlie's name in there. BUT. Douxie is like 9-10 here. He's a little more focused on the whole having a familiar thing, he's a kid, and we know that he's probably caused himself a little memory damage over the years. So he's simply forgotten it by the time Archie starts telling scary stories of Charlemagne when Douxie presses about other dragons.)


End file.
